


the more things change

by rhysgore



Series: shimadacest week [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gen, Sibling Incest, relatively light on the incest but Its There
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:19:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9161038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysgore/pseuds/rhysgore
Summary: “Do you mind if I join you?”-hanzo wallows. genji provides perspective.





	

**Author's Note:**

> day 1: forgiveness/reconciliation. very soft incest, one brief depiction of gore.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

 

Hanzo hadn’t heard the other person approach, but there were very few people who not only would be aware of his whereabouts, could sneak up on him, and would not be doing so to make an attempt on his life. He would have been impressed- he knew the technique, had almost definitely taught it to this specific person- if he wasn’t almost immediately seized by dread of whatever conversation was inevitably going to follow.

 

“I suppose you are going to even if I say yes,” he mutters, gesturing at the bartender to refill his drink as Genji sits down besides him. 

 

It wasn’t usually his custom to get drunk in a public place. Hanzo isn’t so ignorant of himself to deny that he has a problem, but at least he’s usually smart enough to be at his weakest state somewhere where he can trust there is no one about to try and kill him, or at the very least, that there are numerous bodyguards and several thick stone walls protecting him from any would-be assassins. But it’s New Years, and even in his rut, he can’t bear the thought of being drunk alone in the huge, empty castle that is his home. He still has some degree of dignity.

 

“You suppose right.” Genji’s lower face is wrapped in a thick scarf, and the fins of his helmet are covered by a rather stylish winter hat, but his visor gleams in Hanzo’s direction. Hanzo looks away. He’s already had enough to drink that even with his impressive tolerance, he can feel the fog setting in. It wouldn’t be smart for him to speak with Genji while in this state.

 

“After all these years, I still know you too well,” he says bitterly. The words taste bad in his mouth- like he has a  _ right  _ to claim to know Genji anymore.

 

At least Genji seems to find some humor in it, giving a gentle laugh. “Well, I haven’t changed all that much.” The frankness of it stings Hanzo, and he flinches, reaching for his drink with haste. “Hanzo-”

 

“If you’ve come to mock me, I  _ swear-” _

 

“Hanzo.”

 

Genji’s voice is as firm and insistent as it’s ever been, seemingly unaffected by whatever type of robotic voicebox Ziegler installed in him. He always loved the sound of Genji’s voice, and he supposes he should thank her for that one day, when hearing his brother talk doesn’t remind him of Genji’s broken pleas for mercy gurgling out of his ruined throat.

 

He blinks, squeezing his eyes shut to get rid of the unpleasant memory. When he opens his eyes, Genji is still there, visor tilted to the side. Not dead. Healthy, even, if such a word can be ascribed to someone in his unique physical condition. He looks pensive, insofar as the metal mask replacing his face can express emotion.

 

“I am not here to mock you, Hanzo. Nor am I here to tell you I forgive you. I just wanted to say that I understand.” He rubs a metal finger against the grain of the bar counter. “I didn’t, for the longest time. Not when I was young, when it still could have made a difference. Not when I first became this. But I think I do now.”

 

Hanzo feels a lump forming in his throat that he tries to suppress by downing the sake in front of him. It doesn’t work. He always feels this way when he talks to, or tries to talk to Genji. His brother, who should feel wronged, should feel angry, should want to hurt Hanzo the way he was hurt, remains level and unaffected, and Hanzo…

 

“What is there to understand?” He asks, gruffer than he means to, covering up the burst of emotion that has surfaced.

 

“Your obligations,” Genji replies, simply. “I was under the impression for a number of years that you hated me. That you had hurt me because you didn’t love me. After a lifetime of shirking my responsibilities, I never understood why you would consider any of yours more important than my life. But you didn’t stop loving me.”

 

_ You just loved the clan more. _ The words go unsaid, but Hanzo knows what Genji means, and worse than that, knows that he’s right. About both things- that he cared about his responsibility, the family name, and his father’s legacy more than he did his own sibling, and that he never stopped loving Genji.

 

“Not for a single moment,” he murmurs. His eyes sting. Despite that Genji is the more emotional of the two of them, Hanzo has always been the one more easily affected by the opinions of others. When they were young, what would have sent Hanzo into a furious rage simply rolled off of Genji’s back. That hasn’t changed either, it seems.

 

Hanzo goes to wipe the tears from his eyes, but before he has the chance, he feels cool metal on his face. Genji’s fingers are gentle as they brush over his cheeks, and it occurs to Hanzo that this is the first time his brother has touched him in close to fifteen years. It’s… good. He leans into the touch before he realizes what he’s doing, and he wants to say it’s because he’s drunk, his inhibitions are lowered, but the reality is, this is always what Genji has done for him. Made him feel safe, grounded. Wanted. Loved.

 

“I’m not here to tell you I’ve forgiven you. You know I have, and being here with you should be proof enough.” Genji’s thumb trails across his cheekbone. “And I’m not the one who you need to hear that from.”

 

There’s a loud cheer from the bar around them, from the other few patrons that Hanzo had forgotten the moment Genji sat down next to him, and Hanzo realizes the significance of the moment.

  
“It’s a new year, brother. Forgive  _ yourself,” _ Genji says, and Hanzo swears that inside of his helmet, beneath the scarf and the visor and the metal plate protecting him, he’s smiling the same guileless, carefree smile from when they were boys.


End file.
